


Try Me on for Size

by ChubbinLovin (TinyBibliophile)



Series: Coming Home to You [9]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubstuck, F/M, Fatstuck, Homestuffed, Weight Gain, fat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBibliophile/pseuds/ChubbinLovin
Summary: Now that Dirk's taken to the gainer lifestyle, you start to notice the vast differences between him and Dave. Namely Dirk's more... assertive approach. (Alternate title: Different but Equal.)





	Try Me on for Size

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, Dirk's a bratty dom and I love him.

Over the following days, Dirk became something like a pet project for you. And he'd have been lying if he'd said he didn't love all the attention. He no longer fought the insinuations or prodding hands: he actually  _ invited _ them. As he grew accustomed to this new lifestyle, his whole demeanor had changed. You dared to say he'd become a bit of a nymphomaniac on the matter.

 

“I've been missing out,” he explained coolly in response to you saying as much. “I feel kind of cheated, to be honest.”

 

Needless to say, he was eager to continue. Unlike Dave, though, he took more of an aggressive stance in his weight gain. He was the one doing all the teasing, leaving you to lust after him like a silly preteen. You definitely didn't hate this dynamic, nor how it coexisted with Dave’s more submissive approach.

 

As for Dave? Jealousy wasn't even a thing that crossed his mind. He knew better than to think Dirk’s adoption into your little Chub Club would change anything between you; he was still yours, and you were still his. All in all he was supportive (if not just for payback for all the shit Dirk had given him over the past several months), but since that first time he’d taken a backseat in the matter, letting you have your fun.

 

Much to your giddy surprise, the two had started to compete for your attention, seeing who could impress you more with their feederism feats. It was all in good fun, all three of you knowing full well you had plenty of love and affection to go around. And the more time you spent with Dirk, you started to love him just the same as Dave.

 

He was so different though, in so many ways. When you'd been younger, spending the night at Dave's or hanging out after school, you'd thought Dirk to be an arrogant, kind of condescending older version of Dave. Like if Dave had ever in his life taken himself even the slightest bit too seriously. As he slowly opened up to you, though, you realized how wrong you were. That thick, cool-guy shell housed the same warm, caring personality as Dave’s.

 

Still, there were nuances to their personalities that you picked up on. While Dave would joke around and play coy, Dirk was straightforward and literal. Dave was a music prodigy, and Dirk was a robotics genius. Dave’s flippant attitude was a paper-thin facade that even he mocked; Dirk was just that stoic of a person. Dave was an open book; Dirk’s softer side had to be worked for and earned, but hell was it worth it.

 

Even their participation in your mutual kink was like day and night. Dave loved to be teased and spoiled; Dirk preferred to be the one making you squirm while he pampered himself and made you watch. Dave’s favorite position was with you sitting atop his thick belly; Dirk liked to top and threaten huskily to squash you under his steadily increasing weight. They were different but equal. Two sides of your relationship’s precious coin.

 

The best way you could've described it was this: if Dave was like a puppy, sweet, earnest and eager to please, Dirk was like a cat. Kind of on the temperamental side, he showed affection on his terms and his terms alone. He was haughty, increasingly lazy, and demanding to say the least. Growing confident in his new body, he seemed to really think he was hot shit. And… well. He was. And, like a cat, he was too adorable to stay annoyed with.

 

And he knew it.

 

“Remind me why you can't peel your fat ass off the couch and get your own damn chips?”

 

At that he wore a wry little smile. “Because we both know you'll do it for me.” Slipping his shades down to look at you over the rims, you couldn't help but quiver as you lost yourself in his vibrant, orange eyes. His hand dipped tauntingly over the exposed lower roll of his belly protruding from his shirt and gave it the tiniest little shake. “You can act like you're the one in control all you want,” he lilted, “but face it: I'm that sweet-ass prize you're chasin’ after.”

 

You hated that he was right. “I've created a monster,” you laughed pitiably as you got up, leaning down to tangle your hand in his hair and tug to guide his lips to yours; to your surprise, he allowed this, kissing you back eagerly. He must've been feeling generous. “A flabby, sexy, bitchy monster.”

 

The one thing the two did share was how they carried their extra weight. For the most part it was the same: the soft outline of their bellies, and the way they tapered into bell-shaped hips, a rounded rear and and thick, lush thighs. Dirk was taller and with slightly broader shoulders, but those factors (aside from Dave’s superior mass) were the only main distinctions.

 

That night was “Dirk’s turn.” The three of you had agreed that the most fair way to go about this was to divide your time evenly between them. For the most part, the three of you were near-inseparable: you went on dates together, watched movies and ate dinner together, slept and cuddled together… but as for your more intimate activities, those were almost always done separately. It really did make you feel like the owner of two equally greedy, needy pets. A fat little puppy, and a soon-to-be-fat feline.

 

The two of you made yourselves comfortable in Dirk's room while Dave went on a trip to the store to stock the three of you up with garbage food for the next week. Growing boys gotta eat, after all. That left you and Dirk alone to enjoy each other. 

 

He was quick to lay down the law, sprawling out on the bed as he leaned against the headboard and pressed and prodded his fingers into the pudge of his belly. Then he raised his eyes to you expectantly once he slipped off his shades. “You know where the stash is,” he said plainly, making you roll your eyes a bit. Still, you couldn't help but take pleasure in that smug gaze while he fondled the belly he knew you so adored.

 

It was a pain, the shelf almost too high for you to reach. “Lazy fatass,” you taunted when you returned, sitting in between his parted legs. “Pretty soon it won't be a matter of not  _ wanting  _ to move… you'll barely be able to.”

 

Even despite his stoic demeanor, a hot and bothered flush warmed his cheeks as he shifted his hips a bit. “Don't make promises you can't keep, sugar.”

 

You took that as the blatant challenge that it was, rummaging in his box of junk food only after removing his shades and leaving them on the nightstand. “Someone’s been treating himself,” you commented simply. “You’re running a bit low. Too fat and lazy to go buy your own treats now?”

 

He said nothing, taking the box from your hands and snatching a bag of mini chocolate donuts from inside it. He knew you loved to feed him, and that's exactly why he seldom let you do it. Unlike Dave, he had a fondness for deprivation, perhaps from both sides. He loved letting you know that that this was  _ his _ game. He called the shots here. 

 

Ripping open the new bag, he bit into the first donut and chewed slowly. Agonizingly slowly. His free hand roamed over his stomach and the soft protrude of his hips over the waistband of his jeans. He must've gained close to twenty pounds since his first little experiment with you, and those “fat jeans” he'd bought already fit a little snugly.

 

As he lifted up his shirt and squeezed a handful of his tummy, you twitched instinctively forwards to join him. He never broke your gaze, and every little movement or part of your lips made that smug smile of his widen slightly. “You know the rule, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice deep and gravelly. “Look all you want, but don't touch. Unless you  _ beg _ .”

 

It was a fun game the two of you played, seeing who would break first. (Thus far, it was always you.) For him, he wanted desperately for you to touch, but it was a matter of pride and control, and the satisfaction of watching you gradually cave. For you, it was a matter of how long you could bear just looking before you gave in and pleaded to feel him. One day you'd be the winner of his tubby tug-of-war.

 

For now, you stood your ground. Just the way Dirk stared at you so intently was already making you feel all melty inside, so it was easier said than done. He kept stuffing his face with a certain amount of dignity, avoiding being a total slob and always making a sensual show of swiping any stray crumbs from his lips with his fingers, then licking them clean.

 

You ached to touch, to be the one shoving pastries into his greedy, eager mouth. You imagined doing so at a pace he could barely keep up with, but refused to admit as much because of that damn pride. “You're a fucking tease,” you breathed hotly, writhing where you sat and struggling to keep your hands to yourself.

 

“The tease is half the fun,” he retorted evenly, though you could tell from the way his breath was starting to shudder, how his cheeks flushed that he was undeniably horny already. The bag wasn't even half empty, and a bulge was already forming between his legs. “Besides,” he added slyly, his eyes narrowing with a seductive look about them, “watchin’ you squirm is well worth the wait. You want me so fuckin’ bad you can hardly stand it.”

 

You almost hated how right he was, but the way your stomach fluttered and your core tingled made it clear how you really felt. That dominant attitude, so different from Dave’s, made you melt like butter under a heat lamp. And he knew it.

 

“You're shameless,” he added smugly the more you licked your lips, squirmed your hips and clenched your fists against the mattress. All obvious signs of your inner struggle. “All you've gotta do is ask nicely, sweetheart. Then I'll consider it.”

 

You refused. Not yet. His shrug was indifferent, but his more insistent pace as he ate and played with his budding rolls of fat made it clear he was getting impatient. His grip on his pillowy muffin top tightened, and he gave the pliant flesh a rough jiggle before smacking his palm into the thick pudge. Both your breath and his hitched in unison, watching the padded bulge bounce and quiver in his hand.

 

Dirk polished off the bag of donuts with a low, rumbling sigh as he rubbed his belly. He wasn't full yet, but he certainly felt pleasantly, subtly bloated. When he heard your own little wanting sigh, he quirked an eyebrow up. “Give up yet, darlin’?”

 

As if to spite him, you moved a hand to pleasure yourself, sticking out your tongue tauntingly. “Y-you wish, wide load.”

 

You saw him swallow thickly, his flush deepening and spreading down his neck. He went for his box of snacks again, determined. What he pulled out this time was a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. The sound of him snapping one open, the can fizzing and bubbling briefly was enough to make you flinch eagerly.

 

He gulped it down gluttonously, like it was his only source of water in an arid desert. Every swallow made his belly inflate subtly, one hand braced against the side of the soft mound. When he finished the can he huffed out a breath and stifled a little, bubbly burp with his fist. His stomach groaned loudly.

 

“You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to fill that fat gut of yours,” you urged, licking your lips subconsciously.

 

He obliged, popping open another can and guzzling it down. His stomach swelled out a little further, just beginning to grow taut from its contents. Nothing needed to be said before he reached for a third.

 

His pace didn't slow until he got about halfway through the fourth one, the first that he didn't get down in one go. His mouth parted from the can with a weary gasp, his belly gurgling audibly now as his eyes went hooded and lusting. “Give up yet?” you tossed his words back, making him twitch a bit. 

 

He forced a challenging little glare, knocking back the rest of the can and setting it with the others on his nightstand. The button of his pants was angrily digging into his belly now, and he reached down to unceremoniously snap it open. His fly flew apart in rush of relief, and his gut dropped against his lap with a dull sloshing sound. Rubbing the tight sphere of his belly to ease the low gurgles and beginning waves of pain, he breathed a little sigh of relief before going for the fifth can. It was truly becoming a struggle now, his stomach bloated and aching.

 

You almost didn't think he'd manage, genuinely a bit impressed when the last drop of the sixth and final can trickled delicately down his chin. He swiped the back of his palm over the sticky-sweet trail and emitted a sultry, pained groan. His head lolled against the back of the bed, his eyes squeezing shut as his hands held and stroked either side of his bloated little balloon of a belly.

 

“Jesus, o-okay, I give,” he panted out roughly, his chest heaving with effort. “Get your ass over here, you fuckin’ kink-goddess.”

 

You practically pounced on him, like an eager panther who'd been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He trembled under your touch, running your palms in smooth, comforting circles over the distended bulge of his gut with one hand and squeezing his apple-sized breast in the other. Meanwhile, you noticed his hands moving southwards.

 

“Fuck no,” you scolded as you swatted his hand away. “Now it's your turn to squirm.” 

 

He groaned in delighted agony, struggling to rock his hips for even the smallest amount of much-needed friction. “You are  _ so _ gonna get it,” he warned through his teeth, but the way his eyes dilated took a bit of the edge off his words.

 

“If by ‘it’ you mean a good hard fucking, then I certainly hope so.”

 

He was in no state to go through with it just yet, but that was  _ exactly _ what he'd meant. Gradually his overstuffed belly went from a painful ache to gentle, blissful throb. He shivered and panted as you peppered the taut skin with kisses, both of your hands massaging his perky little tits now. “Such a pretty boy,” you swooned affectionately, tweaking the hard buds of his nipples.

 

Then, faster than you'd thought possible, you were laying on your back, pinned under Dirk’s superior mass. Unlike Dave, he had no qualms with all but crushing you under his bulk. The only relief you got from his heavy weight was when he stripped off his shirt, then his jeans and boxers. He even took care of your own garments for you, which was unusual for him. He pumped his hard-on once or twice just to prep himself, his member curving flush against the low hang of his gut. 

 

Your vision pulsed as he moved inside you, letting his full weight rest on top of your body guiltlessly. You gasped, your hands gripping the thick padding of his love handles to anchor yourself. However, now that he was properly positioned, he was stone still.

 

“What're you waitin, for?” he goaded, offering only the smallest roll of his tubby hips into yours to make his point clear. “Get movin’.”

 

He couldn't be serious, you thought, but one look into those mischief-hooded eyes assured you he was. “W-wow,” you huffed, every breath a conscious effort. “I didn't think someone could top and be lazy little pillow princess at the same time. Congrats, I guess.”

 

“Wouldn't wanna burn any of those precious calories now, would we?”

 

Something about the way he smiled as you squirmed under him made you think there was more to it than that. He just wanted to watch you struggle underneath his big, fat body. And you weren't one to disappoint. It certainly wasn't easy, but you managed to start rutting upwards into him, though his weight slowed and hindered your movements greatly. Digging your nails into his bulging, pudgy hips, you relished his throaty little moan.

 

Already your breaths were heaving and laboured, the sweat of exertion glueing strands of hair to your face. “What's wrong, darlin’?” he purred out between his own heavy, pleasured huffs of breath. “Trouble breathin’~?”

 

You retaliated with a hard smack to his backside, at least what little of it you could reach in your current position. You managed a ragged, wicked grin as he jolted and outright moaned at the sudden, brutal contact against plump skin. “Your big fat ass is smothering me, you smug prick,” you sighed out sinfully, continuing to backwards-fuck him as best you could.

 

“Good,” he grunted, finally starting to roll his hips forward to match your pace, apparently taking mercy on you. “I know how much you like being buried under me… wonder how much longer it'll be before I'm too big for you to handle.”

 

Another difference between your partners? Dirk wasn't nearly as vocal when he came. He started to choke out a few soft, growled curses and exhausted breaths of ecstasy. So quiet, so stoic and strained, and yet so ungodly intense. 

 

It wasn't long after he’d climaxed that you did the same. Dirk’s only other movement was to roll off of you gracelessly with a stiff grunt, lying comfortably on his back while you tidied the mess you two had made.  _ Lazy pig, _ you thought to yourself affectionately. After lovingly cleaning him up, then tending to yourself, you laid down to cuddle tightly against him.

 

The two of you had begun to doze when you heard Dave come home, the rustling of shopping bags making Dirk perk with interest. After a few minutes, most likely putting his bounty away, Dave could be heard creaking his way labouredly up the steps. Then, a knock came at the door. He opened it a crack, and you invited him in.

 

“Looks like you two had fun” he chuckled dryly as he sat on the edge of Dirk’s queen-sized bed. “Now scoot over,” he urged you and Dirk, “gonna made a big, fat Strider sandwich up in this bitch.” You and Dirk obliged, and in moments you were swaddled between them, held tight by their thick arms, plump thighs, and squeezed between their big, soft bellies.

 

You laid with your back to Dirk and the front of your body pressing into Dave’s, the both of them eager to curl against you and delight in your presence. They were so warm, it was like heaven. Dave stroked his thumb over your cheeks, peppering your face with kisses from your forehead to your nose, your cheeks to your chin. Dirk played with your hair and nuzzled into your neck to breathe in your sweet, now familiar scent. You felt safe. Secure. Happy.

 

Yeah. They were both very different. Different, but equal. And you loved them both dearly.


End file.
